


Glass of our Hearts

by Caede



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoptive Dad Castiel, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Depression, Doctor Castiel, Doctor Gabriel, Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Lawyer Sam, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Minor Character Edit, Multi, Murder, PTSD Dean, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychopath John, Romance, Veterinarian Jess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caede/pseuds/Caede
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester never had a normal childhood. His mother died in a fire when he was four; his father grew abusive and dove off the deep end to lunacy. On the day of his father's arrest, Dean snaps too, and winds up in a mental hospital. When a new doctor, Castiel Novak, comes in and is assigned to Dean, he wonders if Dean will be a lost cause, or if there is a part still in Dean that wants help.</p><p>** This fic is most likely not going to be finished. I have completely lost muse for it. I love it very much so it saddens me to say this, but what's done is done. I'm sorry for those who have been hoping I would finish this. **</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - this story was started a few months back under a different pen name. However, I ended up giving up/deleting it, but I still had it written out and saved so.. it's back. This story is a huge work in progress, I have no idea where I'm going with it. I'm not a doctor so the writing here for Dean's condition, anything Cas or Gabe says, etc. is absolute crap and probably the farthest from a general description of what could happen. Yes; catatonic schizophrenia is in fact, treatable. With the proper care/pills from what I have seen, the person can function almost as normal as anyone else. That's pretty much it. Um.. if there's anything wrong with this, anything I could fix to make it better, please let me know! You can leave it in a comment or, as preferred, leave it in an ask/submit on Tumblr (gadrehell.tumblr.com - sorry, I'm a dipshit and don't know how to put a link in this.) Anyway, that's all - keep in mind I *suck* at regular updates.
> 
> Also; I very much need a beta! If you can be my beta PLEASE contact me on Tumblr!

** November 2nd, 1983 **

John Winchester wakes to the screams of his wife, Mary. His son, Dean, stumbles out of his bedroom rubbing his eyes. “Mommy?” He says in confusion, looking to John as John runs by. “Daddy!” Dean cries, following after his father. It’s hot - too hot - and the walls dance with colour. Yellow, red, orange, muted by smoke. Suddenly baby Sammy is thrust into Dean’s arms. “Run, Dean. Get out of here.” Dean follows his father’s orders and stumbled outside, gasping for air and cradling the screaming baby in his arms. He waits for his mother, but only his father comes out, carrying a large bag. “Get in the car, Dean.” Dean turns to the car and gets in. John starts up the engine, pauses for a few seconds, and then drives away, never looking back.

**November 8th, 1983**

Dean sits in their hotel room quietly. Sam is held in his arms as Dean coos to his little brother, waiting for their father to return. The TV is on, but Dean's barely paying attention to it, until he hears the name 'John Winchester.' He looks up blearily, surprised as his father's face is plastered to the screen. _'...John Winchester is suspected of murdering his wife, Mary Winchester, and then setting their house aflame. He has supposedly taken his two sons, Dean and Sam, with him. Please call the number below if you see them...'_ Dean blinks in confusion, wondering why their Dad was under such scruntiny Fifteen minutes later, John storms in and angrily snaps at Dean to help pack up and get to the car. Dean nods and goes to the car.

**September 11, 1983**

John took Dean and Sam up to a cabin where they stayed with his father's friend, Bobby. Bobby first turned them away, but after a heated exchange he agreed to keep them at his place, mainly for the sake of Dean & Sam. John disappeared more and more often, sometimes for weeks at a time, and Bobby became more of a father to Dean & Sam than John ever had been. One night, Dean's still awake when John comes in covered in blood. Neither of them speak of it again. The next morning, as Dean's watching TV, the news reporter exclaims that the body of a twenty-year old female had found on the street. The female's hands were bound and a pentagram had been carved into her forehead. Dean thinks about last night and looks to his father who is sitting in a chair, shutting the TV off with a grouse of 'how stupid the news is.'

**November 2nd, 1987**

John Winchester was a wanted man. Dean, now eight, and Sam, now four, both knew this. They never questioned their father coming inside to their hotel, or their car, or wherever they were, covered in blood. They never questioned his strange orders to stay out of sight. They followed his every order at beck and call. John Winchester had managed to drop off of the police radar completely until the fourth anniversary of his wife's death (or, so called cold-blooded-murder to the rest of the world). November 2nd, 1987 was the day the world realized John Winchester was still alive and murdering. This time, there was proof - his face, on camera. John, in a fury, takes it out on Dean - then he takes the boys to the car and drives to god knows where, dropping off the radar once more.

**August 28th, 1990**

Once again, John Winchester has dropped off the radar. Dean and Sam, whom now look nothing like the children on the news, attend school. Teachers begin to question the bruises Dean has, but Dean always remarks that he's a klutz, or that he has a large dog at home that likes to pounce. Nobody questions after that. Sam turns out to be a genius, breezing through school, though Dean doesn't do so well. He's brilliant, sure, but his thoughts are, according to his teachers, 'somewhere else. Something burdens that boy.' Nobody questions what. Dean and Sam had finally settled in to their new school when John Winchester shows up on the TV screens again. The teachers don't question the disappearance of the boys that were named Dean and Sam Smith, either.

**January 5th, 1996**

Six years had passed quickly. John Winchester gave up on hiding his face. He would be one place and then the next; Dean and Sam had been at Bobby's for three months when John showed up. He took the boys once again and began to teach them self defense, how to shoot a gun, how to kill. Dean hated every minute of it because while John was kind to Sam whenever he messed up, John would hurt Dean - 'that's not how you shoot, you fucking idiot' or 'duck the punch, not take it' - but Dean let John do it. At least Sam wasn't being hurt. Then came the day when Dean missed his target with the bullet and John got so mad he shot Dean in the shoulder. Not bad enough to cause a fatality, but that night, Dean took Sam and the car, and drove back to Bobby's, and collapsed halfway up to Bobby's steps. John showed up 3 days later to take the car back and shout at Dean until Dean was reduced to a quivering mess. He was so glad that Sam wasn't home that day. John wasn't heard from for a year.

**March 13th, 1997**

John showed up on Bobby's doorstop and shouted for Dean. Dean said no, but John heard none of it, he grabbed his son by the wrists and growled lowly, 'Do I need to tell you again, boy? You're coming with me.' That was enough to bring back old memories and he followed John. That was the night he murdered Cassie Robinson, the girl he had been dating. Cassie had begged and pleaded for Dean not to, but with John pushing his blade slowly into Dean's side, Dean killed her. Quick shot to the head, then he burst into tears and cradled Cassie's body, apologizing. "Don't go apologizing, you idiot. She's a demon." Dean couldn't believe his ears. Did his father really, really think that Cassie was a demon? "Demons killed your mother, Dean. Don't apologize." Dean had snapped to his father that he was a 'fucking insane psychopath' and that he 'hated him with every ounce of his heart.' Dean had arrived at Bobby's mottled with new bruises, and on his upper left pectoral, a pentagram inside a sun-like shape had been carved into his skin.

**December 25th, 2002**

John arrived unbidden to Bobby's house. He barged in, past Bobby who threatened to shoot him, and straight to the living room. Dean was sitting beside Sam, but there was something off about him - his son wasn't sparking with fire, no, Dean was dulled out. He made no mention and walked straight over, grabbing Dean by the scruff of the shirt. "Come on, we're going hunting again." Dean didn't put up a fight. He didn't even let Sam step in. Sam had done his best to block his father out of his life after Dean had showed up on the doorstep, beaten the way he was, in 1997. But Dean was under his father's thumb like a man underneath a trigger, waiting to die. That night, he took another life - Layla Rourke, a pretty little blonde girl. He had no real relations with the girl other than the fact he had a one night stand with her, once. How his father knew that, however, Dean didn't want to know. After having a practical breakdown after he murdered Layla, John beat Dean delirious and delivered Dean to Bobby's doorstep bloodied. Bobby and Sam had to carefully patch up Dean because they couldn't take him to the hospital - after all, then he'd have to explain John Winchester had done this - and then the boys and their safety would be compromised. So, they stayed silent.

**September 26th, 2006**

John Winchester showed up on the doorsteps of Bobby's house for the last time. Dean had answered the door and almost instantly just blanked, his eyes widening and his pupils almost completely swallowing his iris. Bobby had heard him fall and walked in to see John standing there, and Bobby hadn't hesitate - he grabbed a pan and knocked John out, calling the police and then pulling Dean in to his arms. He called for Sam, who instantly froze, staring at his brother - and then his father. "He's not dead, right? He's - he can't be -" Bobby shook his head, "No. He's not. He just went completely comatose at the sight of John. I need you to take him to the bedroom, work with him, try to wake him up." Sam nodded, caring for his brother until he got some sort of response - a mere mumble of 'sorry' before Dean just stared back into space, sitting crosslegged where Sam had set him down and not moving. Sam knew that Dean had finally snapped, that the fractures were too deep. His brother wasn't going to snap out of this.

**September 26th, 2006**

Sam and Bobby had taken Dean to the hospital as soon as John had been picked up by the police. They explained what had happened and almost instantly a doctor came out to help - a short, brown haired man with these strange, golden eyes - named Doctor Gabriel Novak. Doctor Novak listened intently to the stories that Sam and Bobby told, and he quickly checked Dean for responsiveness - he shined a light in Dean's eyes and the irises expanded and detracted, swallowing the pupil and then opening it. "He's definitely responsive, in a sense.. but I'm scared what he has might be mental, in his head." Gabriel's voice was soft, but Sam almost lost it right there. He couldn't lose his brother. No. "I want to look over the physical damage, see just how... bad it is. Is that okay?" Dean could tell the voice was directed at him, but he didn't reply, just continued to stare. After a few minutes he mumbled a soft, "yes" and then blanked out. For good. 

Sam ended up carrying Dean to the room, since he didn't want to move. Fear was wracking his brain as he set his brother on the bed, helping Gabriel get Dean's shirt off and fighting the scream that built in his throat. His brother was covered in scars, front and back, so many - Sam couldn't believe it. How had his brother hidden this so well? Gabriel sucked in a breath, "This is - I have no idea how he held out this long." He mumbled, "I'm - I'll see if I can find him a nice place to stay, to see if they ever find a way to make him better, okay?" Sam just blankly nodded and Bobby excused himself from the room. 

* * *

**Present Day**

The newest doctor at Riverview Hospital looks skeptically at the file he was handed. The nurse that had handed it to him had looked at him with pity and the words ‘good luck.’ As far as the doctor was concerned, this was going to be a typical patient - right? He stops and flips open the file, glancing over the file. And then doing a once over. He had to have read it wrong, right? No, he hadn’t read it wrong. He closes the file and moved to a chair to sit down, reading the file over once more **. ‘Name: Winchester, Dean. Admitted: September 28, 2006. Room: D13. Reasons of admission: Catatonic schizophrenia, PTSD, Depression. Side notes: Patient refuses to speak.'** The doctor cringed, because all of those - combined - meant it was a miracle that this man was alive. Doctor Castiel Novak sighs and runs his hand through his unruly black hair. So much for going easy on the new doctor.

  



	2. Chapter 2

 

Doctor Castiel Novak sighs and gathers his thoughts, standing up from the chair he had been in. Dean Winchester - that name was so familiar, but Castiel couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He scrunches up his nose and then delays the visit to his patient for just a bit longer, taking a detour to his office and beelining to his computer. He quickly types in the password to start the computer up and then opens the internet, typing in the last name ‘Winchester’ first. That's when the final detail falls into place. He reads the headlien of the first link, **'Infamous serial killer John WInchester captured,'** and clicks it. He skims through the pages until he falls upon the names, written right there on the page, _'...and his two sons, Dean and Sam WInchester...'_ Castiel doesn't continue reading. That would explain the familiar name. But maybe, Castiel told himself, they weren't the same man. Maybe the Dean Winchester he had been assigned to happened to have the same name. Then again, this man was suffering from multiple things that pointed towards his father being John WInchester. Grimacing and running his fingers through his hair, Castiel turns off his computer and stands, walking out of his office and heading towards the D-hall.

The D-hall is the more ‘restricted’ section of the hospital. Only doctors and close family are allowed in, and all patients in the D-hall are typically deemed suicidal or violent (to themselves, and others). Tilting his head, Castiel continues on his way, pausing for a few seconds to allow the guards to make sure he was verified and allowed in. The door opens and Castiel walks through, walking down the hall and counting the rooms. D1, D3, D5 - and on the other side, D2, D4, D6. He ignores the even numbers and continues to trudge on towards his destination. He reaches it and pauses outside the door, reading the number - D13. Yes, this was it. He knocks on the door, making sure that the man was ready for his entry. A man's rough voice calls to come in, so Castiel cautiously opens the door, stepping inside with his clipboard tucked underneath his arm. He's surprised to see two men in there. He shouldn't be, since somebody had called him to come in, and Dean doesn't talk. But he still is. "Hello." He says, his voice soft as he looks to the chair where the man seems to be, rather uncomfortably, folded up. He then looks to the bed, where the second man is sitting with his legs crossed and his eyes focused in no place in particular.

Man one stands, and Castiel looks up slowly, because man one is _tall._ Tall enough to stun Castiel. "Hello," the man says. "I'm Sam - Sam Winchester, Dean's brother. I uh - I heard he was getting a new doctor, so I thought I'd come by. Just to make sure my brother would be okay with you. I hope that's not a problem."

The man holds out a hand and Castiel takes it, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Winchester." Sam shifts his feet, obviously uncomfortable, "Just Sam, please. Mr. Winchester isn't exactly ideal for me."

Castiel nods, "I understand. I'm Doctor Castiel Novak, by the way." Sam smiles slightly, "Castiel - interesting name. Novak is, too - though it sounds familiar." Sam can't exactly put his finger on it. Castiel shrugs halfheartedly, shooting a glance to a man on the bed - surprised to see the man looking _at him_ now. Castiel smiles at the man, his heart skipping a beat because goddamn, the man's eyes are gorgeous - the shade of grass in the springtime, when the light reflects off of it just right. He looks away, towards Sam again.

"So, what is there for me to know about your brother?" Castiel asks softly, glancing to Dean. The man's not exactly the definition of 'responsive' but he's not unresponsive either. His eyes follow Castiel's every step, and he shifts his weight slightly before stilling again. Sam shrugs, "Take a seat, Doc."

Castiel does, taking his clipboard out and flipping through Dean's files. Sure, there was some stuff on it from previous doctors, but Castiel knew there wasn't _enough._ Sam begins to explain everything - how Dean had been responsible for Sam as long as Sam could remember; how sometimes his brother would disappear for a few days, and come back looking like he had gotten in a bad fight; how he remembered Dean and John coming home covered in blood, but Dean had assured him the blood wasn't a victim's. He also mentioned to Castiel how Dean had never mentioned who's blood it actually was, but after seeing Dean that night at the hospital, he knew.

Sam continues on, never once faltering on his recollection, at least, not until he reaches the day where Dean went catatonic. He remembers it clearly, of course, and finally manages to recount it. His father had been at the door when Dean answered, and Dean had pretty much went immobile and his eyes had dilated freakishly, and he hadn't returned for months. The treatments they had been giving would work for small periods of time and Dean would speak here and there, but then he'd just go quiet and disappear on them again. Castiel made notes on every little thing Sam told him, sighing softly.

"I have no idea where to even start with this. Has anyone tried to just talk to him, no matter how he 'responds' or acts?" He inquires, and Sam shakes his head. "For the first year or so, they did. Then they gave up." Castiel notes that too, and sighs. "Thank you, Sam. Having you here, able to explain everything - it will probably end up being helpful."

Sam nods, "No problem, Doctor." Sam pauses and casts a gaze to Dean that breaks Cas's heart, the taller man looking so, so sad to see his brother that way. "Take care of him, please." Castiel nods, "I will, Sam - and I'll do my best to find a treatment that works for him. I promise." Sam nods and leaves the room.

As soon as Sam is gone, Castiel turns to Dean. Dean's focus had turned elsewhere once again but his position did not shift. "Dean?" Castiel asks softly, wondering if the man would even bother to look at him again. The man didn't so much as glance up at Castiel, just blinks once, and then zones out again. With an soft huff of oxygen out Castiel takes the seat he had been in earlier, glancing to Dean out the corner of his eye. The man has turned his attention to Castiel again, his lips pressed into a thin line. Castiel shakes his head slightly and continues to flip through the notes, until he comes across a scrawled note. It's bunched up and scrawled messily, torn in places and dirtied, but when Castiel reads it, he looks up to Dean and then back down. _'Patient responds well to constant company...'_ Castiel smiles slightly. If this was true, then he'd spend most of his time in Dean's room, since he had no other patients. He jots down more notes and then tucks his clipboard underneath his arm, walking to the door. Dean's eyes follow him the way there, "Goodbye, Dean." Castiel says, then walks out the door.

* * *

Castiel arrives at the hospital early the next morning, so that he has time to prepare for the day and plan exactly _how_ he would spend the day in Dean's room without growing overly bored. He wanted to help so very badly, because Sam himself had been a nice guy, and he seemed to care so much about his brother. And Castiel had promised Sam he'd help his brother, and he had meant it. Turning around in his chair to grab a few pieces of paper and some pencils, he grabs his clipboard again and then leaves his office. He hums Ramble On as he walks through the A-hall and takes the shortcut to the D-hall, flashing his badge to the guard stationed outside before heading in. He beelines it to Dean's room and knocks, so that in case Dean is improper for whatever reason, he'll know to at least hide when Castiel comes in. Castiel waits a minute before he opens the door warily and steps in, looking to Dean in surprise.

This time, the man has curled himself up in the chair, and his eyes train straight on Castiel as he enters. Castiel gives a halfhearted wave and Dean blinks, shifting in the chair and then pointedly looking to the chair beside him. _Holy shit,_ Castiel thinks, _he's actually giving a form of response to me._ Castiel walks over to the chair and eyes it, wondering if Dean might have done something bad, but something tells Castiel that Dean wasn't that type of person. Castiel sits, and then sets the papers down on the table that is between them. He opens the curtains over the window, looking to Dean to make sure that the light doesn't bother him, and from the fact that he hadn't changed demeanour or position, Castiel figures it was fine. He glances up to dean and sets out a piece of paper on the table, with a pencil. "Hi, Dean." He murmurs, his voice low as he grabs the pencil he had set down and gently places it on the paper. "I hope I don't bother you much with my presence." _  
_

Castiel finds himself drawing a delicate curve, continuing that shape until it becomes a body. "I was looking through the notes that the last doctor had on you, and there was one, shoved in the back, that said you seemed to respond well to constant company. I don't know if this is true, of course." He cuts himself off and pauses, erasing the shape on the paper and furrowing his brow slightly. "I just hope it is. Your brother seems like a good man, and I promised him I'd do my best to help you. And I really do want to." He shrugs halfheartedly, continuing to sketch. He begins to work on the head and face now, the sketch beginning to take shape. He then adds wings billowing out from the back of the man he had been drawing. "So if my presence does bother you, for whatever, just uh - I don't know, since you don't like to talk, and -" Castiel laughs, rubbing his neck. "Sorry. I have no idea how to approach this - this isn't exactly what I joined on for. Not that I mind, of course." He adds quickly. "If you don't want me to be here just kinda, make it obvious. Ignore me completely, or just tell me to screw off. Whatever." He stumbles over his words and when he looks up, Dean is _smiling_ slightly.

Castiel casts his head down and continues to draw, adding the tinier details - eyes, cheekbones, nose - clothes - then the feathers, adding individuals slowly. "I'm just going to keep talking because I don't really like silence. I hope that doesn't bother you, either. I just -" He grimaces and looks up to Dean again, whom is still smiling. Castiel laughs again, "God, I seem like such an idiot don't I? I bet you're wondering how _I_ could be your doctor." He finishes the major details and then refines those, smudging and sharpening angles. "Anyway - I uh, I don't know much about you, and I'm assuming you think that's a good thing." He stutters, and he hears a tender laugh echo from Dean's lips. Castiel tenses and looks up, Dean looking at him curiously now, "Don't hurt yourself trying to impress me." Dean croaks, and Castiel's heartbeat all but stutters in his chest. _Dean was talking. To him. And he'd barely even been with the man. Oh god._ Castiel's mouth goes dry, "Not trying to impress." He laughs shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just - I have no idea what to do, or say, and..." Dean closes his eyes and says, "Anything." The room goes silent again and all that is heard is the scratch of pencil against paper. _  
_

"Anything is a broad topic." He mumbles, continuing to draw. He then shrugs and decides to just tell Dean a little about himself. After all, they'd be spending almost every day together. "Fine. About me. Let's go with that, because you're going to be stuck with me." He murmurs, finishing the sketch and setting it to the side. He takes a new piece of paper and sets it down on the table, starting a new sketch. He draws a thick line and then adds jagged ones, forming makeshift mountains; he then draws trees in the foreground and a lake peeks between the trees. "My name is Castiel." He refines the mountains. "I have way too many siblings. Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Anael, Balthazar." He laughs softly, "My parents were obsessed with angels and the like. Castiel, of course, is a little off. It's assumed that it was meant to be Cassiel." He chuckles, "But that's off topic, isn't it."

Dean has stopped replying and when Castiel looks up, he's got his eyes trained on Castiel's drawings. Castiel stops speaking now and continues to draw, setting his second piece to the side. None of them were perfect but they weren't terrible, either. Shifting his position in the chair, Castiel bends down to grab the last piece of paper he had brought, "So - apparently, treatment worked for you before, but for only a few months. I want to get you back on the pills you had been taking, and keep constant contact with Sam and I." He muses, not looking up just yet. "If you know anyone, friends or anything that might help too, I could try and get them cleared for entry too. I really think it could help." Castiel looks up then to see Dean steadily staring at him, a calculating look on his features. He then looks away again, "Try." It's a simple word, but Castiel catches the want underneath Dean's tone. "I will. I promise." He looks at the clock, surprised by the fact that it was already four, already thirty minutes past when he gets off of work.

"Well, I ought to go - I'll see you tomorrow, Dean." He gathers his pencils and waves, and Dean meets his eyes in a goodbye.

* * *

Dean watches Castiel go with a slight sadness sinking in his stomach. Of course, there's the constant sadness, the storm cloud, that surrounds him, but that's nothing that matters. Castiel is different and Dean finds him interesting, the way that Castiel just went straight out talking to what many considered a blank wall. The way that he so carelessly just drew sketches and talked to Dean like he was actually there, and it made him that more desperate to get better. Maybe, one day, if he ever loosened the chains holding him down, he would want to befriend Castiel.

 


	3. Chapter 3

  


Dean does not sleep well that night. His thoughts are plagued by Castiel, by the way the doctor had treated him as if he were just another person. It was nice, not being treated like an invalid. He stands, almost collapsing, then turns to the table and chair he had been in the previous day. He sits down and looks out the still open window, which is filled with the early morning sunrise. Slowly, Dean turns his eyes to the drawings Castiel had left on the table, picking one up. The first one he looks at is rather stunning for how quickly Castiel had sketched it. The paper has been filled corner to corner by a peaceful lake scene, mountains in the far distance of the picture, and trees and birds nearer to the foreground. He sucks in a breath and then sets that to the side too, his hands shaking the slightest bit. Dean hasn't moved this way in months and his body is fighting him on it. He grimaces and forces himself to continue, lifting another drawing - an angel, this time. He focuses on the little details Castiel had put on the angel - from the large, billowing wings to the slight frown of the lips, to the wide eyes and the delicate, yet warrior-like, features. Castiel could probably become an artist if he wanted, Dean thinks.

Dean brushes his thoughts away and looks to the walls. The walls in the room are bare and a muted grey, the same with the bedsheets. There was no personal touches to it and Dean was just now noticing how much that bothered him. He twitches the slightest bit, forcing his body to move, stumbling towards the bed and then collapsing down on it. Frustration sparks through him, because he wants to move but his body won't let him. He grits his jaw, trying to move, raw determination allowing him to stumble up again. His entire body shudders and then he collapses on the floor again, his body winning out on the whole 'not-moving' thing. He twitches once before pulling his knees to his chest, arms sliding around them as he stares at the ceiling.

* * *

Castiel arrives early again. He decided yesterday to change his schedule to the same that that he had been at the hospital yesterday, and was only waiting for the official 'okay' from his superiors on it. He wastes no time grabbing things from his office, such as more blank sheets of paper and his pencil. He pauses and grabs a second, just in case, and allows his mind to wander to Dean. Dean had been showing such steady improvement already, talking a bit and moving. Not a lot, but still, he wasn't exactly completely comatose anymore. Castiel takes his usual shortcut from the A-hall to the D-hall and flashes his badge at the guards, beelining it to Dean's room. He knocks gently, getting no response, but he had been expecting that. He nudges the door warily open and quickly sweeps his eyes over the room, but doesn't see Dean. "Dean?" He calls, getting a muffled grunt in response. He wanders in the direction of the noise and looks to Dean, "Good morning to you too." He teases. Dean just grumbles something that sounds like 'good morning' back but Castiel wasn't certain.

Castiel turns to the table and sets down his things, taking a seat and peering down at Dean. He then looks up and notices his drawings scattered on the bed, which means that he had left them on the table, which means Dean had been up and around earlier. Castiel hides the smile by turning his attention to a new drawing, a simple handprint for whatever reason. "I had a new set of pills ordered for you, so you can try taking those to get back on the whole recovery path. They should be here by tomorrow, if not today." He tells Dean, biting his lip and furrowing his brow with concentration. "I have no idea why they took you off of them in the first place; the doctor who had been assigned to you when you were taking them marked considerable process." He messes up and curses softly, going back to fix his mistake. "I mean, yesterday - it's obvious you want to get better. I can just tell."

He's still working on his drawing when there is a shuffling from the beside the bed. He looks up and Dean is standing, shaking slightly before taking a few determined steps to the chair that is across from Castiel before collapsing into it, his legs pulling to his chest again. He focuses and yet doesn't focus exactly on Castiel, his lips curling into a slight smile.

"Right - I do." Dean says. Castiel's heart races a bit faster at the man's voice - rough and yet not too rough, with a slight accent underneath, from more of the southern states. Castiel quirks an eyebrow, "I knew it. You were moving this morning too, right? I'm just assuming because my drawings from this morning are no longer on the table, but over there."

Dean's eyes slowly turn to the bed and he bobs his head, once. "Yes." Dean clears his throat, as if that would push the block in his mind out. "I wanted to hang them up." He swallows tightly. "It's so boring in here."

Castiel laughs, "I can see if I can hang them up for you later." He looks up at Dean, and Dean's smile is astounding.

Castiel finds himself smiling back - an actual, easy going smile. It wasn't strained like the ones Castiel had been sharing previously, and it felt nice to smile normally. Dean's eyes even light up and crinkle at the edges, and it makes Castiel's heart skip. Castiel pauses only a moment before speaking. "I was thinking about bringing my guitar tomorrow. Just to play, you know? Would you mind that?" Dean shakes his head, once, an obvious no. "Okay, good. I'm not the best at it, I'm just warning you." He laughs softly, "I mean, I'm not bad either. But don't expect concerto style." Dean just smiles again. Castiel continues to draw, deciding to try and work on getting a conversation going with Dean. "So - what do you like to do? Or.. What did you like to do?" He asks, his voice soft and not at all demanding. If Dean didn't want to speak, he didn't have to. Castiel wasn't going to force the man.

Dean opens his mouth and then closes it, pauses a moment, and then grates out two words. "Mechanics and music."

Castiel's eyes dart up to his, "Oh? I never had the mechanics gift. Last time I tried, I ended up breaking my brother's car. Michael was _pissed._ Luckily, he managed to fix it." Dean laughs softly and Castiel blushes. "How was I supposed to know that you don't yank the thingy out of the whatever-it-was..." He mumbles, and he's rewarded with a bit more laughter from Dean. Dean turns his eyes down, still smiling gently, and watches Castiel draw. "What else can you do? Dean asks, his voice still rough and cracking in places. Dean ignored that fact, proud of himself for making an effort.

Castiel raises his eyes again, pausing his pencil on the paper and then sitting back, holding his pencil expertly between his fingers and twirling it. "I - I don't know. I draw, as you can see, and I can play multiple instruments. Guitar, piano, violin, drums." Dean shakes his head and mumbles beneath his breath. "And you're a damn doctor." Dean huffs, breathing in a deep breath again before continuing to speak. "You're a goddamn artist, musician, and doctor."

Castiel holds his breath, trying to keep a straight face, but a laugh escapes him and he rolls his eyes. He pushes his hand through his hair, "Yes, is that a problem? _"_ He huffs, and Dean seemingly loses his shit, dissolving into laughter. "No, not at all. Don't get so worked up." He wheezes through laughs.

They pass the time like that, Castiel drawing and making conversation, Dean giving small, short answers. It was pleasant and the progress Dean was making was startling, but good. Castiel had never been so happy to see a patient get better. Before Castiel knows it he has to leave - literally, has to. He got told to leave. Dean waves a solitary goodbye, smiling still. Castiel can't help but leave smiling, too.

* * *

Dean sleeps better that night. Castiel had made him think back to before, to when things weren't all shot to hell. It was nice, being able to want to smile, and speak, and do _things._ He felt like he had purpose; sure, Sammy had been a reason for him to get better, but something made him not want to fail Castiel. So he would keep trying, keep pulling through. Keep getting better.

* * *

It's eight in the morning, like always, when Castiel knocks. This time, Dean answers the door. The doctor's surprise registers clearly on his face and Dean smiles, stepping back and then leaning heavily against the wall.

"Surprise." Dean says with this big, shit-eating grin that Castiel only knows means Dean is feeling good.

"Definite surprise. It's been what, three? Four days? And you're already doing better. I'm so happy about that, by the way." Dean waves it off, his movements twitchy, but he was moving nonetheless and that was great. "You gonna stand there like an idiot, or." Somehow, Dean makes his question sound more like a statement, and Castiel rolls his eyes.

Dean has no idea how he does it, but Castiel rolling his eyes is a whole-body-effort, and Dean _knows_ that Castiel's sass was strong when he wanted it to be. It's almost sassy enough to pass Sammy's bitchfaces, and that's saying a lot. Finally, Castiel steps in, bringing a black guitar case with him. "I hope you realize how big of a pain in the ass it was to convince them to let me bring this guitar in, by the way."

Dean quirks an eyebrow, his steps behind Castiel slow and deliberate. "Oh?" Castiel grimaces and sits on the floor, Dean perching on the bed so he looks down on Castiel. Castiel nods. "It's like they expect you to take a guitar and bash me over the head with it."

Dean's look of utter horror is enough to tell Castiel that he would never do that. "Exactly, I knew you weren't like that." Dean watches, his gaze intense as Castiel pulls the guitar out. The instrument is beautiful - it's a combination of dark and light hues. "Ebony wood," Castiel states before Dean can even ask. "I figure that's what you were going to ask, no?" When Dean doesn't reply Castiel takes that as a yes, he was going to ask that. He picks at the guitar and then pauses, turning the tuners and strumming once again. The guitar reverberates the notes correctly this time, so Castiel moves his fingers to the frets and begins to play.

The strums come easily, habitual, because this was the song that convinced him to continue to play guitar. This was the first song he had ever learned. Dean seems to perk up at the sound of the song, "Ramble On?" He croaks, and Castiel bobs his head in response. "Mhm."

Dean smiles so brightly that Castiel's heart literally aches because this man, after all he'd been through and everything he had going wrong in his life, _he still found a way to smile like that._ Castiel found it beautiful. "Sing?" Dean murmurs hopefully and Castiel blushes, "I - I don't really," but Dean's expression conveys 'shut up and sing' without saying anything at all. "Jesus, okay. Okay. I'll sing." Dean grins wider and nods enthusiastically. Castiel easily plays the song's intro, then bites his lip hard. _He can do this._

He exhales and then begins to sing, the lyrics rolling from his tongue without a second thought. His voice echoes through the room and he can hear the surprised whispers, Dean's sharp inhales. By the time Castiel finishes his cheeks and neck are burning, embarassment echoing through him. "I - uh - wow." Castiel mumbles.

Dean drops down in front of Castiel and reaches forward, his fingers lightly brushing over the guitar Castiel is holding. "Amazing -" Dean starts, his voice faltering. "That was absolutely - amazing." Dean's voice is still filled with awe.

Castiel blushes and shrugs, playing the guitar easily again. "Oh - by the way, your medicine came in. It's in the guitar case. Just take one every day." Dean nods, turning to the guitar case and cursing when his body revolts against him and forces him to sit. "Dean?" Castiel asks, worry thick in his tone.

Dean grunts, "I'm fine. Body's fighting me is all." Castiel nods, "Alright. If you need help, just ask. Please." Dean nods, reaching forward quickly and snatching the pills before his body seizes in on itself.

This causes Castiel to stop, setting the guitar to the side and taking the pills from his hand. He opens it, puncturing the safety seal with ease and taking a pill out. He gives it to Dean, who is sitting there blankly. "Dean, hey. Come back to me." Castiel says gently, "Please."

Dean shakes his head as if that would help clear everything out, then he raises the pill to his lips and swallows it dry. Castiel nearly panics, worried that Dean would choke, but he doesn't and shrugs. "Don't give yourself a heartattack, Cas." Dean stutters, and Castiel stares. "Cas?"

Dean nods, "Nickname. No?" Castiel nods, "No. I like it. It can stay." Dean grins, that shit-eating grin of his. Castiel shakes his head and laughs.

The guards come and tell Castiel that he needs to go, that it's getting too late, and castiel does. He doesn't want to, but he does. Dean bids him good night, and Castiel pauses for a second. "Wait, one last thing. Those drawings - where did you want them up?" Dean looks up, "Oh. Uhm, just on the walls. But it can wait." Cas nods, "Alright. Night, Dean." Dean waves and Castiel leaves.

  



	4. Chapter 4

 

Dean wakes up feeling better than ever. He actually has energy inside him and he wants to do something, which is an amazing feeling since he typically feels nothing but dead. He sneaks a glance at the clock on the table, which blinks 6:30 AM back at him in bright numbers. Castiel would be here any minute, he realizes, and sits up quickly. Dean had been growing self conscious in the presence of the handsome doctor assigned to him - Dean had looked like crap the past days and he wanted to look presentable. It was the least he could do for someone like Castiel. He shuffles to the bathroom and looks in the mirror, grimacing at his reflection. Even though he was feeling better mentally, he still looked (and felt) like shit physically, and he knew that had to be changing. He goes back to his room and digs through the drawers until he finds something to wear - a soft, worn and obviously well loved Led Zeppelin tee - and then a random pair of sweats. It wasn't the best, but it was better. Better than the typical white tee and awkward hospital-scrub like things.

He then returns to the bathroom, peering into the mirror warily again. _Shower_? He thinks to himself, setting the change of clothes down on the counter of the sink. His body shakes with distaste at how much he was moving, so he pauses for a few minutes and leans heavily against the sink. He lets a heavy breath escape him and then trudges forward, willing his body to work with him - _you want to be better, don't you? -_ and quickly changes out of the hospital-issued clothes. He didn't have to wear them, he just typically did because he never wanted to get up and go to the drawers of clothes he had. Dean realizes how off-track his thoughts had gone and shakes his head, rubbing his arm and then looking down at his now naked form. Even after so many years he still had never gotten quite used to the littering of scars over his form, all by his own father. He cringes and then looks back up, walking to the shower and turning it on. He hums and steps under the warm stream, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling.

* * *

Castiel arrives outside Dean's room at 7:00 AM precisely. He hums beneath his breath and knocks, listening closely - he doesn't hear Dean reply so he steps in, looking around in confusion. He then manages to catch the sound of water running and realizes that Dean's in the shower, making Castiel blush softly before continuing to his typical table-seat and sitting down there. He drew his finger down the table and sighed, reaching over and grabbing Dean's file from where he had left it. He reads through it and then adds his own notes - about how well Dean was responding and how he was moving around - when he hears the bathroom door creak open. Castiel doesn't look up, continues to read and write notes, but bothers to call a soft "Dean" so the man would know Castiel was there now.

"Heya, Cas." Dean says, walking over and sitting down on the bed, his legs pulled up to his chest. Castiel looks up now, focusing on Dean and smiling brightly. "Hello, Dean." Castiel murmurs, running his hand through his hair.

"It's nice to see you moving around." Castiel says absently, as his attention had been drawn back to the file. He closes it then and looks up at Dean. Dean's just sitting on the bed quietly, watching Castiel's every movement, until suddenly the doctor's unnervingly blue eyes flash to his own green. Dean looks away immediately, as if that would make it seem like he hadn't just been all but drooling over the doctor.

"Mhm. I woke up this morning and I felt good for once. It was really nice." Dean says, rubbing his arm and smiling. "I have no idea what you're doing to me, but goddamn, I'm feeling better than I have in years."

Castiel grins, because hearing that, knowing that Dean's feeling _that much better_ makes him get this warm fuzzy feeling inside. He was actually helping someone. "You know I'm not responsible for all of that though, right?" Castiel asks, nailing Dean with a pointed look.

Dean narrows his eyes, "What?"

Castiel shrugs, waving his hand dismissively. "Nevermind." Castiel taps his pen against his bottom lip, obviously thinking. "Yeah - nevermind. Nothing important."

Dean groans, "Yeah, whatever. Nothing important my ass." There's a knock on the door and Castiel starts, getting up, but Dean stops him. "I'll get it."

* * *

Dean opens the door to a rather surprised-looking Sam.

"Dean?" Sam says, his hazel eyes wide with surprise.

Dean just shoots his brother that shit-eating grin like he always used to, pulling the taller sibling into a crushing hug.

"Holy shit, Dean." Sam breathes, focusing on Castiel on the other side of the room, beofre looking back to his brother. "Dean, you - you look so much better. And you're up. And talking. And Castiel, what the hell are you giving my brother?!"

Castiel glances up and laughs softly, beckoning Sam in as Dean returns to his place on the bed. Sam closes the door behind him and takes the seat opposite of Castiel.

Castiel finally speaks. "I put him on his old pills yesterday. Until then I haven't been doing anything but talking to him. In fact," he pauses, looking between Dean and Sam. "Dean's responsible for most of the improvements."

It's Dean's turn to look at Castiel pointedly. "Bullshit." He mutters, "I'm just - I -" He frowns. "Shit." He then laughs, "I guess you're right..."

Castiel smiles, "Of course I'm right. Smart enough to be a doctor, after all. I'm sure I can make small inferences like that."

Dean flips him off and shakes his head, "Whatever, you idiot." His tone's lighthearted, though, and Castiel's smile is wide.

Castiel just softly mumbles, "Assbutt."

Dean looks up and lets out a high-pitched peal of laughter, "Assbutt?"

Sam's even laughing now, "Assbutt? That's incredible, oh my god."

The laughter catches on to Castiel, and then the three of them, they're all laughing, before finally getting themselves calm enough to maintain straightfaces.

Castiel, through gasping, desperate breaths, managed to utter the playful words. "I hate you both. So much. Assbutt is a _perfectly good insult."_

Sam grinned, reaching forward and grabbing a pillow from Dean's bed and throwing it at Castiel. "Yeah, if you're five."

Castiel whines as Dean grins, "Sorry, Cas. I have to agree with Sammy on this one."

"Sam. Not Sammy. Goddamit, Dean." Sam hisses.

Dean just shrugs, taking his pillow back. "Now go off and back to that lovely Jessica you've been telling me about. And next time, bring her. I gotta meet my soon to be sister-in-law, bitch."

Sam nods, "Whatever, jerk. See ya." He gives a halfhearted wave, leaving the room.

* * *

Castiel spends the rest of the day with Dean teasing him with playful jabs at 'assbutt.' He lets it go, however, because Dean was _acting so alive_ and it made him grin. "Yeah yeah, I get it. Assbutt is a terrible insult, but it is mine, and I am proud of it." He huffs.

Dean snorts, "Kay, assbutt." He throws a pillow at Castiel when Castiel flips him off.

"You know what? Screw you damned Winchesters and your pillow throwing!" Castiel cries, throwing it back.

Dean catches it and sets it to the side, "Yeah yeah, Cas. Don't get your panties in a ruffle."

Castiel turns bright red and Dean's eyes widen, "Don't tell me you're wearing panties?!" He shrieks, and Castiel turns even redder.

"No! God no, oh my god - I just - you know what, nevermind. Pretend this never happened." Castiel whimpers pathetically and Dean stands up, walking over to Castiel and patting his head.

"Don't worry, my young padawan. I don't judge." Dean winks heavily turns away, "Now, today's been eventful and my body currently is trying to tear itself apart between wanting to do things and not wanting to. So I'm going to sleep."

Castiel nods, his mouth dry. "Alright. Night, Dean. And I uh, I really don't wear panties."

Dean laughs, a short but affectionate one, "Yeah, I know, Cas. I was just teasing."

Castiel pauses at his door, "Right. I knew that." He steps out with a groan, the heat in his cheeks telling him enough - he's still blushing.

* * *

 _Fucking Dean Winchester with that stupid shit eating grin, and that goddamn winning personality, and those eyes - and are you really listing all the good traits of your patient? Goddamn, Cas._ Castiel scolds himself. He wanders back up to his office and quickly puts in a good note of improvement for Dean before locking up his office and heading home.

* * *

Dean falls asleep that night replaying the events of today in his mind. The way Castiel had laughed; the way Sam had smiled; the way that Castiel could be so absently pretty without meaning to. The way he got so fussy over the whole 'panties' taunt. He groans into his pillow and forces himself into sleep, hating the fact that somehow, the doctor was worming his way into Dean's family.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  


Castiel was never exactly someone who enjoyed mornings. He absolutely despised them, in fact. This morning, however, was especially terrible. It's not often that you wake up to find that your pet cat has - rather unfortunately - decided to vomit right beside your face. It's also not often that said cat then bites you when you are trying to get him from a corner to take him to the vet. On top of that, it's worse when you finally get said cat, forget your coffee, get stuck in traffic, and said cat vomits again while in transit. Luckily, the one good thing so far is that he vomited in the little carrier-cage and not on your seats. By the time Castiel arrives at the animal clinic, he's almost a hundred percent positive that he looks like a maniac. Collecting himself he takes the cat's carrier and grumbles, then walks in to the clinic and looks around. There was only one other person inside on the seats, and that person was rather familiar.

Long legs had somehow tucked themselves up to fit, and the shoulders of what could be an intimidating man slouched forward, all but begging not to be noticed. The man looks up when the bell on the door rings, and familiar hazel eyes lock with Castiel's own.

"Heya, Doc." Sam smiles, "No offense, but you look like crap." His tone is teasing and lighthearted, nothing cruel of the sort. A smile spreads across Sam's lips as he stretches slightly, crossing his arms over his chest and settling back into the seat.

Castiel rolls his eyes at Sam's remark. "Yes, I know." He scrunches his nose slightly. "I would much rather not be out at the minute, but my cat seems to be sick with something, and woke me up in a rather... repulsive way this morning." 

Sam chuckles lowly, shaking his head. "Enough with the details, don't need to know any more than that. No need to worry though. Jess will be back in a minute, and she can help you." He bobs his head, fully confident his soon-to-be-wife would be able to help Castiel's cat.

"Oh - Jess, your fiance, right?" Castiel questions, moving to take the seat across from Sam so they could speak while waiting for Jess. Castiel's cat - a fluffy black and white thing named Tux - mewls hopelessly and Castiel sinks in his seat more.

Sam perks up, "Yes. And - hey, Jess."

Jess looks to her fiance and smiles, love reflecting on every inch of the girl. From the white, flashing smile to the way her entire body visibly relaxes, Castiel can tell the two are happy together. Very happy. Castiel's stomach flips as he looks down to his cat and then focuses on that.

"Hey, Sam." Jess says, and then turns her attention to Castiel. "And you are..." She trails off.

Castiel looks up, "What? Oh - me. Castiel. I, uh - I'm Dean's doctor." His words get all knotted up in his mouth and he cringes. Of all the times for his brain to just stumble over every little thing... He grimaces and looks up to Jess, an apologetic smile gracing his lips.

If Jess notices his stumbling, she doesn't bother to comment on it. "Oh, so that's how you know Sam? Cool. Anyway, I heard from the back that your cat was sick?" Jess asks, and after Castiel bobs his head, she comes around the counter and over to Castiel, crouching down to look at the cat in the cage. "And you were implying he vomited, no?"

Castiel chews on his lip, "Yeah. I'm assuming that there's not too much wrong with him, but he got sick on the way here too." He shrugs, running his hand through his hair. 

"Well then, Castiel. I'll take your kitty back here and see if anything's too majorly wrong, or if he's just merely getting sick." Jess says, looking to her fiance on the other seat, who had been quiet their whole interaction. "Sorry, Sam. I know you have plans for us today..."

Sam shrugs, "It's fine, Jess. I know you don't get off until eight anyway. I just came early, y'know?" He sighs and settles back into his seat, head tilted as Jess leaves the room with Castiel's cat in tow. His attention then turns to Castiel.

"Listen, Cas - I really want to say thank you. I know I've already said thank you, but it's just - I've been so worried about Dean for so long. And then you come along, and it's like you're a goddamn angel in disguise or something, because... He's just so much better." Sam quickly says, holding up a hand when Castiel goes to protest. "No doctor has bothered to try and actually do what you're doing with him. That's the saddest part. They've all just marked him as hopeless; a wall with a human face. But you didn't care and you shoved it in all their faces my brother was - is - worth saving. So thank you."

By the time Sam finishes Castiel is blushing. "Sam - I don't deserve all those thank yous. I'm just doing my job - helping people. And like I said earlier, Dean's doing most of the work on his own. If he didn't want to get better, he wouldn't. But he does. That's why he's getting better." Castiel shifts in his seat, feeling out of place in the veterinary office.

Sam shrugs and looks to Castiel, "Well. Still. Thank you." 

Castiel nods at Sam, feeling rather abashed at all of Sam's praise. He sighs and waits for Jess to come back.

Jess does, rather quickly, and shoots a reassuring smile to Castiel. "Well, your kitty should be fine! It seems he probably just ate something a little off. Not sure what, but nothing too bad I don't think. We'll keep him overnight just to be safe though; is that okay?" 

Castiel nods a yes and goes to sign the paperwork Jess gives him, quickly finishing and then grimacing. "There we go. That should be enough." 

Jess looks it over, "Yep. See you tomorrow." 

Castiel doesn't even hesitate, waving a quick goodbye to Jess and Sam, then heads out to his car again. All he can think is how badly he needs coffee and a shower before going in to work.

* * *

By the time Castiel makes it to the hospital he's more than ready to just lie down in his office and admit defeat. He doesn't, however, just checks in and glances over his schedule for today. Just like every day, he has no new patients - which he finds concerning, because it could be good or bad that he doesn't have new patients. In the good case, it could just be because the hospital can see the progress with Dean. On the bad side, they might just fire him soon. He doubts that though, since Gabriel had been the one to put in a good word for him, and Gabriel was one of the head doctors.

Pushing his thoughts to the side and taking another drink of the overly thick, bitter coffee the hospital brewed, he sets it to the side and then gathers his things. The taste of the coffee still sits heavy on his tongue, and he rather wishes he could get it to go away. He can't, of course, so he just shrugs and leaves his office, heading toward's Dean's room. The guards don't even bother asking Castiel to show his identification anymore, they just nod and let him through. He nods back in thanks before hurrying off to Dean's room, only knocking once before the door is all but thrown open.

"Took you long enough." Dean grumbles, stepping aside so Castiel can enter.

Castiel shoots him an apologetic look, "Yeah. I know. I wanted to be here earlier, but today has been completely, utterly terrible." He groans, and Dean's questioning look eggs him on to continue. "Eh, you probably don't want the details much. Cat woke me up in a disturbing way. Dealed with traffic. No coffee. Went to the vet for the cat. On the bright side, I ran into Sam and Jess."

Dean perks up at that, "You met Jess?"

Castiel nods, moving to Dean's bed and sitting on the edge. Dean sits down beside him.

"She's lovely. I think you'll like her when you meet her." Castiel tells Dean, and Dean's features flood with relief. Castiel, in turn, shoots Dean a questioning look at the relief in his features. "You seem relieved." He says.

Dean shrugs, rubbing his arm. "Yeah. I uh - last girl Sam was with, she..." He trails off, pausing as he bumps over a particularly awful scar. Luckily, Castiel hadn't noticed the scars too much yet - or, he did, and kept his comments to himself. Dean can tell Castiel wants more info, so he continues speaking. "Her name was Ruby. She uh.. Sam was always a good kid, y'know? Straight A's, real uptight, stick-up-his-ass about school. But then Ruby came along, and shot all that straight to hell in a handbasket. Gave Sam drugs, that kinda thing, got him hooked. I managed to intervene before it got too far along, but you get what I mean. Ruby kept comin' back, too. Trying to get Sam to continue, but after a while she got the hint and went away."

Castiel blinks, surprised Dean had shared that much information with him. "Oh. I see. Well - you don't have worries with Jess, promise you that."

Dean just nods and looks to the ceiling, his green eyes bright. He pulls slowly on his bottom lip with his teeth, as if he was trying to formulate something to say but didn't quite know how to say it, and his fingers continue to trail along his arm. "Don't tell Sam I told you that, though," Dean shakes his head and laughs as he looks back to Castiel. "He probably won't care, but I don't want to risk it." 

Castiel nods, meeting Dean's eyes and almost immediately looking away. _He could get lost in those eyes. They were like - god, here he goes going poetic - but they were like a field on a summer's day. A soft grass green, with darker gold-brown flecking near to the iris._ His heart skips a beat and he clears his throat, shifting so Dean wasn't sitting as close to him.

Dean obviously felt the shift but he says nothing, instead just changes the subject. "So, Cas - what's the plan for today? More of you talking and drawing while I sit there, you playing guitar, or a long, romantic walk on the beach?" His tone is playful.

Castiel shoots him a look, "Haha, very funny. In fact, I have no idea what to do today. I mean, there's not really much to do until you get out of this part of the hospital. Which, at your progress, will be rather soon." He smirks in satisfaction, because if Dean kept this progress up, he'd be up in the lesser restrictive wings by the end of the month. "I might be able to convince them to let me take you to the main lounge though." He debates, "If you'd like. There's not much there, but there's uh - a piano, and uhm. A TV, I think. More room. Some board games."

Dean grimaces, "TV, I can do. Listening to you play music - since I'm assuming that's why you mentioned the piano - I can do. Board games? There's a reason they're called _board_ games. 'Cause they make you bored." He wiggles his fingers, and Castiel reaches over and grabs a pillow.

Castiel then smacks Dean with the pillow. "Your puns are terrible."

"At least I don't say assbutt." Dean giggles and earns a glare from Castiel.

"Do you want me to try to take you to the lounge area or no, you assbutt?" Castiel says, just playfully taunt Dean. 

Dean steals the pillow from Cas and smacks him with it instead. "Shut up. Now go work your fabulous doctorly magic and get me outta this goddamn room." Cas doesn't reply, and Dean shoots him a sidelong glance. "Please?"

Cas sighs and pats Dean's head tauntingly, "Fine fine. Hush now, child."

Dean smacks his hand, "I have no idea how you managed to be a doctor."

"Brains, Dean. It's all in the brains." Cas wanders out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

Dean watches Castiel go, his heartbeat hammering in his chest. That goddamn doctor had found his way in to Dean's heart way too quickly it was almost scary. Something about Cas - god, he had no idea what it was. Maybe it was the way he could smile so easily, the way that he could laugh at the stupidest things, and yet he'd take Dean's taunts with ease. Dean sighs and smacks his head against the wall with a groan, his body trembling with the effort of staying mobile. He lays still for now, waiting for only a few minutes before Castiel returns. He pushes any and all thoughts of Castiel that aren't having to do with a doctor/patient relationship out of his head. 

* * *

"Go get dressed. We're going to the lounge." Castiel grins, and Dean almost purrs with happiness.

"Oh my god, I get out of this godforsaken room?" Dean laughs in glee and all but runs to his drawer, opening it and digging around. He pulls out a simple black, long-sleeved henley and a pair of jeans, not even thinking as he pulls off the shirt he had been wearing. At least, not thinking until he hears the strangled noise that escapes Cas. "Shit - sorry Cas.." He says, and Cas barely makes a noise of assent.

"I'll be uh. Outside." Cas mumbles. 

Dean can almost hear the blush in Cas's voice. He grimaces and quickly finishes changing, then opens the door and glances out. "May I make my exit, doctor?" He asks playfully.

"If you're not naked." Cas replies, and Dean whimpers.

"I was never naked! Only... shirtless. Very shirtless." Dean mutters. Cas rolls his eyes and then grabs Dean's wrist, his grip gentle.

"Come on." 

* * *

Dean and Cas walk in to the lounge to be met with mostly silence. There were only two other patients there, with what Dean presumed to be their families, and the TV was playing. Between the families and the TV, there was nothing but a low buzz of noise that cut the silence like a dull blade. Dean looks over to Cas with an unimpressed look, "Well, the TV isn't playing anything good. I obviously don't have any family around, excluding Sammy, but he isn't here. So.. piano it is." He mutters.

Cas nods and picks his way towards the piano - it wasn't a fancy thing, but it wasn't terrible either, most likely a donation from somebody - and then takes a seat in front of it. Dean draws up a chair and sits down next to the dark haired doctor, his eyes roaming over the fingers that were so delicately resting on the piano keys.

"Isn't it strange that they have a piano?" Dean questions Cas, whom merely shrugs in reply. Cas is preoccupied flipping through a song book before grimacing and putting it to the side, muttering about how 'there are nothing but terrible songs' on the book. 

Finally, Cas responds to Dean's question. "Presumably, yes. But sometimes, music can be soothing to the patients - so it makes sense why they have it." He shrugs and places his fingers to the keys, firmer this time, a soft note echoing through the room.

The families do not cease their conversations, they continue them; however, their voices get lighter as to not talk over the piano, but merely - talk _with_ it, the notes that filled the air. As Cas continues to play, Dean begins to catch on to the tune and smiles. The song is familiar, an old friend that he hadn't heard from in a while, something that was always _there_ when everything else was hell.

"Carry On Wayward Son?" Dean questions, and earns a small bob and a half-smile from Cas.

The song crescendoes up and through the room, not too loudly; Cas is making sure that he hits the keys just right so they don't bang or crash, and Dean finds himself relaxing to the music. The families have even quieted and, as Dean watches Cas, the pink flush creeping on the doctor's neck surprises him. He must know everyone around is listening.

Cas hits the last note and bites his lip, glancing at Dean. The families murmur a bit, before returning to their conversations - Dean's grinning at Cas like the man pulled down the moon for him or something, his green eyes alight with happiness.

"That was incredible, Cas." Dean breathes, "Like - holy hell, incredible." He stumbles over his words a bit too much but he ignores it, the way his jaw was trying to clamp shut on him and render him silent and immobile once again. No, he can't blow this. Finally out of that hellhole of a room, Dean wants to improve faster so he can stay out. "You're really talented. Damn."

Cas shrugs, "I guess so. I mean, I'm not overly talented -"

Dean cuts him off, a displeased look dancing along his features. "You are extremely talented, Cas. Don't give me that 'I'm not talented' kinda bullshit just because you're embarassed or anything like that."

"I'm not embarassed, Dean -" Cas starts with a groan, and Dean just smacks the doctor's arm lightly.

"Say that to the blush on your cheeks." Dean murmurs. When Castiel just glares at him and then starts playing the piano again, Dean counts that as a win.

* * *

Around four thirty, when it's just beginning to get dark outside, Cas and Dean return to Dean's room. Cas had played piano for the most part while Dean would make comments on how Cas played and make requests on what Cas was going to play. They had only paused long enough for both of them to eat a quick lunch, then continue interacting. They even talked to a few family members that came over to talk to Cas about his piano playing; all in all, the day had been great. Dean had never felt better, either. The last thirty minutes they spend merely talking about the randomest things - Cas rambling about what happened this morning; Dean laughing so hard over the fat that Cas woke up to his cat's puke that he falls off the bed. 

Before either of them know it Cas has to go and they regretfully say goodbye to eachother.

* * *

Dean waits until Cas leaves before his lets out a groan. His body had been fighting him since two; he was in pain from how hard it had been to stay mobile. He didn't want the doctor to see, or to worry, but now every inch of him, from muscle to bone, was screaming in agony. He tries to ignore it but to no avail, so he just lies down and buries his face in his pillow, as if that'll help. Painkillers, maybe - but then he'd have to ask. Shit. He grimaces and then just tightly closes his eyes, curious if he could even fall asleep this early. Probably not. There's a knock on the door and Dean groans out a 'come in' before there's a bit of shuffling, and the sound of a glass settling on a table, and the rattle of pills.

Dean warily glances up to see none other than Cas standing there. "Cas?" He mumbles, blinking up at the doctor. 

Cas smiles and glances to the items on the table, "I brought you some painkillers. Contary to your beliefs, I could tell you were in pain... the little grimaces and what not were enough." He shifts his position awkwardly, "If you want them, of course."

Dean twitches and sits up enough to grab the pills, popping them and swallowing dry. He gets nailed with a _did you really just do that you idiot_ look from Cas, so he quickly snags the water an swallows that down, too. "Thanks, Cas." He sighs, collapsing back on the bed with another groan.

"You're welcome, Dean. I uh - I have to stay late, I need to talk to my br- boss." Cas scrunches up his nose. "So if you do end up needing anything else, just let somebody know and have them call for me." 

"Bross?" Dean mutters, but he doesn't really bother to comment on it any longer. Instead he just nods, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift, now that the painkillers were slowly moving in to affect.

* * *

* * *

Cas stays quietly to the side until Dean's breathing evens out. The doctor smiles because the man seems so much more at peace when he sleeps; then again, who doesn't. Dean, however, physically looks _younger,_ not hardened by the pain of having a maniacal father, of raising a younger brother like your own, of losing your mother. At least, that's what Cas had gathered from Dean's file. He sighs, shaking his head and turning from the sleeping Dean. Instead, he leaves the D-Hall and heads towards the B-Hall, where he hurries to his boss's office. Boss. Brother. Same difference. He was glad Dean didn't continue to question him on his near-slip.

He knocks on the door, getting a 'come in' so he gently pushes it open, walking in. "Gabriel." Cas nods softly, and his brother looks up. 

"Heya, Cassie!" Gabriel says, standing up and pulling his younger brother into a hug.

Cas grimaces, not that he minds his brother being affectionate, but here - he felt a bit awkward. "What did you need to talk about?" He asks, locking eyes with Gabriel who had detached and moved behind his desk.

Gabriel grumbles, "Fine then. Not like I don't want to catch up with my lil bro or anything. Whatever. Straight to business, then." He pauses before steamrolling on. "Basically, I just want to say, whatever you're doing with Winchester - keep it up. He hasn't been that good since... ever. And I was the one who diagnosed him."

"Wait, what?" Cas freezes, locking eyes with his brother. "You're the one who - who diagnosed Dean? And you didn't try to help him, or -" Gabriel cuts him off with a curt look. Cas's eyes narrow, "What?"

"I did try to help him, Cassie. But that was seven years ago. _Seven._ I had pretty much just started - it was only my second year on board, here. So yes, I tried to help him, but it was not good enough. You seem to be good enough, however. So, again, keep up the work." 

Cas nods, "Okay, Gabriel."

Cas turns to leave, but Gabriel stops him with his words. "Oh, and Cassie? Be careful, from what I've seen of you two, you guys are getting rather close already. Tread lightly, little brother." 

Gabriel's words resonate inside Cas like a bell through an empty church; he nods, once, before he leaves the room on autopilot. He quickly finishes up whatever else he needs to do - make notes of Dean's progress, clock out, lock up his office. He leaves, driving blindly, and he wonders how he makes it home safely.

Cas doesn't even bother to do anything else except go straight upstairs, collapse on his (now clean) bed, and fall asleep.

  



	6. Chapter 6

 

Cas wakes up early that morning to go and get Tux from the vet. Jess is already there, greeting him with a smile and telling him the cat was fine, that he had just eaten something bad but should be alright now. After thanking Jess and saying goodbye, Cas quickly heads back to his place to get ready for the day. He thinks back over yesterday's events and groans, gripping the coffee cup in his hand just that much tighter as he sips at it. Gabriel's words had haunted him all night and they were haunting him this morning, too. What did Gabe mean by 'tread lightly, little brother'? Why was he so cautious about Cas getting close to Dean? Deciding he was overthinking it, Cas finishes his coffee and then collects his things, heading out the door and to his car.

It's a quick drive to the hospital (since he somehow avoided traffic) and he all but screams 'yes' in euphoric happiness over that fact. After all, who on earth lieks traffic? That's right, _nobody_. He parks in the garage and jogs inside, knowing he was pressing time already. He clocks in at 8:30 am exactly, thanking the heavens for weekends and the fact he didn't have to be here at you know, 7:00 am again. Cas hums beneath his breath as he walks, pleasantly saying hello to the guards and then wandering to Dean's room, finding the door ajar. He quirks an eyebrow and wanders in, looking to the bed, where sure enough, Dean's sitting and looking at him with curious eyes. Dean's lips then spread to a tiny smile and Cas can't help but smile back.

"Good morning." Cas says, taking his usual seat at the table near the window. He tilts his head and looks at Dean, who is simply looking at Cas and not saying anything. "Dean?" Cas asks in worry, shifting in his seat. "Something wrong?"

It's like Dean is snapped out of a trance, his green eyes an abyss as they meet Cas's. "Oh. Uhm, good morning Cas. I'm fine." He says, dropping his eyes to his hands and clenching them into a fist before opening it again. He looks up to Cas again, and the doctor's looking at him with disbelief.

"You're not fine, Dean. My bullshit radar is off the charts." Cas states, and Dean looks up at the doctor.

 _Stupid psychologist - wait, is Cas even a psychologist? Gah, what the hell is he? You know what, never mind that - stupid Cas and his radar of being able to tell when something's wrong._ Dean's thoughts run rampant in his mind. "Honestly, Cas. I"m fine. I'll be fine." He grumbles, then edges tword a topic change. That should work. "So, what's the plan for today?" He questions.

Cas's look is unimpressed and rather spiteful as he nails Dean with it. "Well, originally I had planned to take you back into the land of the living. But, since you're being adamant about not telling me what's wrong, no plan. We'll just sit here like we did the very first day."

Dean grimaces, "I'm fine, you're just letting your overprotective doctor side show."

Cas shrugs, "No, I'm showing the side of me that actually _cares_ how you're doing. Not just because I'm your doctor. Because, considerably, I have become your friend."

* * *

Dean's heart wrenches. "Cas -" He mumbles, because that was it. That was what broke his absolution; the fact that Cas liked him enough to ignore his faults and be his friend. The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can even stop them, shaking like a goddamn leaf, his walls crumbling like a card tower in a hurricane. "I'm so far from fine, Cas. I mean, yeah, I'm getting better figuratively - but I keep having nightmares." He pauses, trying to collect himself. "No, not nightmares. Memories. Of what my father did. What I - what he made me _do_." His voice drops an octave and he's crying now, unable to even look at Cas. "I've never told anyone, not really. Just enough to get him put away, y'know?" His voice stutters, in out, in out. He's losing it, isn't he?

Cas just sits there and listens until Dean starts to cry. That's when he gets up - Dean only knows because he can hear the rustle of his labcoat, the sound of footsteps on linoleum - and then sits beside Dean. Cas hesitates for a second then puts his hand on Dean's arm, and Dean instinctively leans into the touch; then Cas hugs him and it's all Dean can do not to lose it there. He hadn't felt affection like this, actual caring, in years.

"It's okay, Dean. You're safe here, you know. Just keep talking, tell me what's wrong.." Cas coaxes, holding the sobbing man close and tight in his arms.

Dean nods once, then forces himself to continue. "I - I just, they're terrible. I remember when Dad - he came home, god, I think it was... a year? After mom had died. And he - he said a demon did it." He laughs through his tears, it's a broken noise of someone damned, knowing how _pathetic_ he looks and he hates himself for it, but what can he do? "Anyway - a demon. And he went and said that it was demons killing people and all those innocents he was killing were demons too. I have nightmares of that night because -"

Dean freezes up. Cas looks at the man in worry, "Dean?" He whispers, and Dean wraps himself tighter around Cas.

"I'm okay, I'm okay - it was the first night he ever hit me. I was five." Dean trails off and takes deep breaths, wiping at his face. Regaining his composure. "Five, Cas. He hit me because I said 'daddy, demons aren't real.' And he told me that they were, and that I needed to know that. He threatened that if I ever became a demon too, he'd kill me. I made myself forget that night, you know? At least, for a while. Until..." Another trail off.

Cas nods slowly and just shifts position so that he's leaning against the headboard, setting Dean beside him.

The man trembles and just wraps himself right around the doctor again. "And he trained me. To do what he did. Said 'I'd follow in his footsteps like a good soldier' and - he made me kill." Dean's voice is so low, so broken and shattered, that even he can barely hear himself. "First was Cassie. My girlfriend of the time. Said she was a 'demon' and that I shouldn't be sorry for killing her. She begged me not to do it, but Dad was - the blade -" Dean's hyperventilating now, tearing at the seams.

Cas shushes him, "Dean? Come back to me. You can drop the subject, okay? That's enough; you don't need to continue."

Dean nods, his fingers tightening in the fabric of Cas's coat. He swallows and just closes his eyes, "Thank you, Cas." He mumbles.

"Thank you? For what?" Cas blinks in confusion, looking to Dean, but he finds the man asleep on his chest, clinging to him like a terrified child. Cas sighs and leans his head back against the headboard, letting Dean rest, because obviously - with those nightmares, no, _memories_ he corrects himself - Dean hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.

* * *

Dean wakes within the next two hours with a start. He's on something warm and comforting and - wait, it's breathing. Then he realizes, _oh shit you fucking idiot you fell asleep on Cas. Cas, of all people._ He sits up quickly, able to feel the blush burning his cheeks, racing down along his neck - down his spine, somewhat.

Cas looks at him and smiles slightly, "Sleep well?" He asks, his tone genuine and devoid of any taunting. In fact, it's full of worry and actual care, and Dean's stomach flip flops three times over.

"Yeah - uhm, holy shit - I'm so.. sorry." Dean says, his throat still clogged from crying. "I didn't mean to. You just - you uh," he mumbles, then whines.

Cas shrugs, "It's okay. No need to apologize to me." Cas soothes, "I don't mind at all. I'm glad that you slept." He hums, "And bothered to tell me what was wrong."

Dean moves closer to Cas again, their arms pressed together, "You really don't mind?"

"No. I really don't." Cas replies, looking at Dean quizically. His brow furrows and his eyes brighten with curiosity, his lips pucker a bit too; Dean notices all the small things and smiles slightly, moving closer to Cas, up into his lap.

Cas's eyes widen and Dean smiles just the tiniest bit as the doctor shifts beneath him, making it possible for Dean to settle more comfortably.

"Good." Dean says, adjusting so he could lean on Cas's chest. The doctor's heartbeat is racing - literally, Dean can feel it pounding against Cas's ribcage and echoing into Dean's own. Dean tilts his head and nuzzles into Cas's neck, "You don't mind at all? Not this?" He moves his head back and moves closer to Cas's face, until their breaths are intermingling and their eyes are so so close - Dean can see the darker, navy blue flecks amidst the sky blue; the even lighter blue, so crystalline Dean thinks it might even be clear. Closer to the pupil there's almost black-blue flecks and dear god, he's really getting so poetic over goddamn eyes. _Way to go on the whole soppy poetry thing, Winchester._ He scolds himself.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Cas finally asks, his voice strained and rough. Dean shrugs, biting his lip. Cas's pupils blow wide with lust; and, inside their depths, Dean thinks he can see his own reflection mirroring Cas.

Dean decides that he couldn't hold back any longer. He places his arms around Cas's neck, and before the doctor can say anything, he just.. does it. He lenas in and presses his lips to Cas's, the sharp inhale the doctor takes before pressing back is all Dean needs. He whimpers against Cas's mouth, but then Cas is pulling away.

Despite everything, the way his heartbeat just stopped for a few seconds, the way that Dean fit against him so perfectly - Cas has to stop. He puts his palm against Dean's chest, "Dean - I can't." He whispers softly, and Dean practically deflates in his lap. "I mean - damn, I want to, but -" Cas looks up, and Dean's lips are in a thin line now.

"But what, Cas? We both want it, don't we?" Dean whispers.

Cas grips Dean's thighs in his hands, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "But - what if things go wrong, you know? I don't want to mess things up."

"If you mess things up?" Dean snorts out a laugh, "Cas, you're not the one who just had a goddamn breakdown over memories. You're not the one who's been sitting here, unresponsive and almost dead, for seven years. No; you won't be the one to mess things up, if anything like that happens, it will be me."

Cas's eyes are soft and they hold Dean's, "You sure about that one?" He asks, and Dean nods. "Yes."

"But - my job, too." Cas glances up towards the ceiling. "What if they fire me or something? I don't really see why they would, especially since my brother -" He trails off and bites his lip. _His brother warned him not to get close to Dean, told him to tread lightly, told him not to..._

Cas sighs as Dean nails him with an, 'are you serious' sort of look, leans in, and kisses Cas again. This one's firmer; more certain, not worried that Cas will reject him. Cas presses back; his hands move to wrap around Dean and Dean molds himself to Cas's chest - his fingers move up to knot in the doctor's hair, the already mussed strands even more mussed by his touch. Cas's hair is soft as he grasps at it, their kiss getting slopper, messier.

Cas pulls away, taking in a deep breath and looking at Dean with his blue eyes dancing. Dean grins sheepishly and pulls away so he's laying on the bed, his head in Cas's lap now, just staring up at the doctor who's stuck between awe-struck and wanting more. He settles, however, for stroking Dean's hair softly. _How did we get here,_ Cas wonders. _We went from him breaking down to sleeping on my chest to kissing me and holy hell._ Cas's thoughts are broken when Dean speaks.

"Do you think I'll ever be okay enough to continue living a normal life like Sammy does?" Dean's voice is gentle, almost heartbreakingly innocent; Cas shrugs and continues to stroke Dean's hair.

"Honestly? Yes. I might be a little biased, but you've been doing so well. I mean, it's been just over a week and a half and you're..." He grins, "Being all _kiss me you idiot_ and smiling and doing things." Cas muses, "I think you'll be out of here in no time."

* * *

Cas doesn't leave that night. He manges to convince the guards - with a little bit of puppy-dog eying and smiles, and some random techinical mumbo-jumbo that literally meant nothing - to leave them alone. He wants to be there, in case Dean has another nightmare - he wants to be an anchor that Dean can tie himself to. Cas is sitting crosslegged (or, as close to crosslegged as he can) at the head of the bed; Dean's head is resting in his lap, sprawled out over the rest of the bed. It's not a huge bed but they both make it work, and Dean falls asleep that night to Cas's fingers carding through his hair, singing Hallelujah so softly Dean has to strain his ears.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Dean blinks awake the next morning with a start. His heart hammers in his chest as soon as he wakes because the memories of yesterday flood in. _He kissed Cas. Cas kissed him_ back. _He took a risk and it was worth it. Cas stayed_ almost all night _with him until he fell asleep._ He's grinning now, sitting up and stretching. He's excited for Cas to come back so he quickly gets up to go get ready and look presentable. Not that he really thought Cas cared much how Dean looked, because Cas had seen Dean looking terrible multiple times... but still. He pushes himself out of bed - only to collapse. Shit. He's having an episode. _  
_

His body folds in on itself like origami, delicately folding, hiding away his secrets. Dean can feel himself screaming inside, fighting against the sickness in his head, his stomach, singing through his veins. He tries to get up but that does nothing, he just gives up. _Fuck it. No matter how happy I feel inside, I feel even worse outside._ With a whimper he just curls up tighter on himself, his head tucking between his knees. He's still lying there hopelessly when the door creaks open. He wants to speak but his mind tells him, _no. Don't speak, Dean. Don't speak because it will make him hate you. Don't move, because it will make him realize how pathetic you are. Pathetic and worthless and you should not do anything._

But his silence worries Cas. He can tell by the terrified tremor in Cas's voice when he calls for him. Dean tries to reply but his jaw just locks itself tightly shut and so do his eyes. Goddamnit, he was doing so good.

* * *

Cas hadn't actually gone home yesterday. Not really. He'd left around midnight and came back around four am; he went inside his office and holed up there while filing paperwork and the like; he also found his schedule had been changed up, again, so that he came in an hour earlier and left an hour later. He wasn't going to complain though. Not really his right _to_ complain, after all. This was his job, plus it just means more time with Dean, so.. He smiles and glances at the clock, which blinks seven am at him. Holy crap. Time flew by quickly.

He downs the rest of his coffee and then heads off to the D-hall once more. The guards don't even glance up much; they just recognize him by now and just open the door, waving him through. Cas reaches Dean's room in record timing, opening it cautiously and peering in.. only to find it empty. "Dean?" No reply. A little bit of a muffled grunt, but otherwise, there's pure silence. Panic wells in his chest, unbidden and unwelcome.

"Dean?" Cas calls for him again, edging inside the room and coming around the bed - and oh. There he is. "Dean." He says softly, dropping down to his knees beside Dean and carefully reaching forward. "Dean, hey. I'm here. You'll be okay." Dean just barely shifts, just enough so that he leans towards Cas.

Cas wraps him in his arms and picks him up, moving them both carefully on to the bed and settling Dean in his lap. Dean twitches unahppily, as if he wants to move, to get away, but Cas just holds him tighter. "I don't know what's bringing on this episode, Dean, but if you're scared or anything like that - about me, about someone, I can promise you, whatever you're scared about, it's most likely not true." He sets Dean to the side, carefully, hesitating a mere second or so before pressing a gentle kiss to Dean's temple.

It's enough to make a tiny smile grace Dean's lips. Cas thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

* * *

Dean watches Cas through half-dead eyes. Every action Cas does is tender, sweet, caring; he listens to Cas speak and his heart breaks. He's right, in a way, about Dean being scared of him, but not completely scared. Not in the way Cas thinks. He's scared of letting Cas down, of letting his heart break. He watches Cas move aimlessly around the room, noticing what Cas is doing soon thereafter. He's putting the pictures up that he had drawn, the ones that Dean had requested be put up. Dean smiles a bit more, trying to be responsive.

 _Cas. Come on, Cas, I'm right here. I'm at the surface. Just scratch a little more. Please. I'm scared, Cas..._ Dean pleads in his mind, and then Cas is leaving and Dean feels his heart stop. _He can't handle me anymore. He's going to leave me. He's going to leave and I'll be alone again and -_ Then Cas is back. Cas is back and Dean feels relief wash over him like a tidal wave.

Cas has his guitar now and waves it slightly, "I hope you don't mind? I remember how helpful it was last time, for whatever reason, so.."

* * *

Cas takes a seat in front of Dean, his fingers closing over the frets and then strumming. His fingers then move along, strumming out the main chords to 'Angel With a Shotgun' by the Cab. he plays it softly and then picks up the singing chords, smiling and biting his lip here and there; he glances up to Dean who's moved now, just slightly. Oh, thank god, Dean's reacting. He's reacting and... His heart skips a beat, because Dean unwinds from himself and moves weakly towards Cas.

"Cas." Dean croaks, "Hi."

Cas grins at Dean, pausing the strumming. "Hi there." He continues to strum again, singing softly still. By the time he finishes the song Dean has wormed up to lean against Cas without hindering Cas's movements.

Setting the Guitar to the side, Cas slips his arm around Dean's shoulders. "You doing better? Enough to tell me why you just froze up on me?" He asks, his lips grazing Dean's ear as he speaks.

Dean shrugs, a stiff shrug, but it's stil a shrug. "I'm okay, I think. Will be." He rolls his shoulders for good measure, until his muscles untense and he's feeling okay. "I just - I don't know. Woke up, and I collapsed, and then I was thinking about how worthless I was to you."

"You are not worthless to me, Dean. You are okay as you are." Cas presses his lips to the side of Dean's head again. "Not okay. You're great. You - you're just. I don't know what to even say."

"You're an idiot." Dean mutters in his ear, "But that's okay." He curls himself around Cas, purring playfully and then pressing a kiss to his neck.

Cas scoffs. "You're rude." He reaches forward and unlocks the drawer that holds Dean's medicine, grabbing one of pills and passing it to Dean and then locking the drawer once again.

Dean takes the medicine with a grimace, "So, what's the plan for today, Doc?" He smirks, and Cas shoots him a glare.

"Well, you see, because I am _amazing_ I managed to get you a pass to go out to the gardens." Cas mutters. "Be happy about that."

Dean smiles, "My knight in shining armour, taking me out to the gardens. This better be a nice romantic date."

* * *

They head out to the gardens ten minutes later. Dean makes a variety of smartass remarks, such as 'they have a garden' 'first a piano and now this' 'whats next, a movie theatre'? and the like. Cas just glares at him for every remark.

Dean's flinching here and there because _holy crap, outside air felt so much different and the sun is cruel_ and Cas just laughs because he finds his adversity to the sun amusing. 'You won't burn, Dean, it's normal' he says, and Dean snarks back that his statement is 'utter bullshit' and to 'shut up'. He then tacks on a 'please' for good measure.

Cas replies with a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

They reach a resting area and Dean is surprised to see a picnic is already set up, and it's amazing because his brother is sitting there with.. Oh. Jessica?

Sam looks up with a huge, huge grin. "Holy shit. Dean!" He gasps, "Hi!" He bounds up like a puppy and all but tackles Dean in a hug, and then Jessica is standing up to and smiling at Dean.

Dean focuses on her after he pulls back from Sammy. "Hi. Uh - holy crap, you're Jessica, aren't you?" He asks, and Jessica nods.

"Hello there. Please, call me Jess." Jess stands there with open arms, obviously expecting a.. hug? from Dean.

Dean nods quickly and gently hugs her, careful not to hug too tightly or anything. "It's nice to finally meet you. Sam talks about you a lot. It's kind of annoying."

Sam sticks his tongue out at Dean, and then turns to Cas. "Well then. Now that everyone's here, Cas..." Sam trails off, "Let's eat, talk, you know. _Socialize_."

They all agree and sit down to talk.

* * *

By the time night falls, all four of them are talking and laughing still, getting along perfectly.

Cas glances down at his watch and curses fluently, "Shit shit shit. Dean, we need to get you back inside."

Sam glances up, "Oh. Shit. I totally forgot, yeah. Okay. Uh, quick goodbyes then. Thanks for setting this up, Cas. It was great."

Cas nods, watching Dean say his goodbyes to Jess, and then cleans up their mess.

Packing it up he leaves it there (with the notion to get it later), bids his farewells, and then takes Dean's hand and leads him back inside.

* * *

Inside Dean's room they settle down on his bed, giggling and pressing kisses to eachother's chins and necks and cheeks, lips and shoulders; they're like teenagers again. They kiss and kiss until finally they're too exhausted, laying down beside eachother. The guards don't come tonight; Cas thanks the heavens. Especially when Dean turns to him and smiles.

It's still the most beautiful thing Cas has ever seen.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long story short for the reason you get an update? I thought I had school today.
> 
>  
> 
> I didn't.
> 
>  
> 
> .....also, pack your bags kids, we're going on a feel trip.

Castiel wakes around three in the morning. He blinks a few times in confusion and then realizes where he is, biting his lip and turning his head to Dean. Dean's curled up in a tight ball, all the bedding pulled around him. Castiel realizes that's why he woke up - Dean stole the blankets, and he was freezing. With an amused smile he carefully slips from the bed, making sure not to make it shift too much as to not wake Dean. He has three hours until he truly  _needs_ to be at the hospital so he sighs and then carefully makes his way out of the room, insuring that he would not wake Dean.

He wanders along the hall, knowing how absolutely bedraggled he looked but honestly not caring, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame it. Then again, his hair's always a mess anyways so it's not like it really matters. He continues walking with silent steps, all the way to his office, where he groans and collapses in his chair. He does not want to be awake, at all, and wonders why he even left Dean's room - but he brushes it off with a grimace and logs into his computer. He checks his email and finds a few; most were unimportant, but the one from Gabriel. It was simply titled **'Answer your phone, damn it'** and nothing more. He clicks it, and it feels like his whole world lurches, arches onto it's side, tumbles down a flight of stairs, crashes, and burns.

Was this Gabriel's idea of some kind of sick joke? He pats his pockets, looking for his phone, and realizes no. There's nothing there. That's when he notices the device, still sitting on the corner of his desk, flashing. On autopilot he grabs it and checks the lock screen: it flashes back at him with  **'7 missed calls from Gabriel Novak'** and  **'3 Voicemails from Gabriel Novak'**. Cas pulls a face and then unlocks the phone, quickly listening to his voice mails.

The first is a simple  _'Cassie, answer your phone. Please.'_ The second sounds strained, as if Gabriel were fighting tears of some sort.  _'Cassie.. Cassie, come on, why aren't you answering? Anna.. She's..'_ The message cuts off with the sound of a choked sob. No, no, no, Cas thinks. This is a trick, Gabriel's being a complete asshat. He'd never.. Cas breathes deep and listens to the last message.  _'Cassie. Just come home whenever you can, okay? I know you don't get along with our parents but neither do I.. but everyone else needs us right now. You know the address. Call me when you can. None of us.. we didn't even know until the article. They didn't even call us..'_

Castiel runs his hand over his face, rubs his temples, and takes calming, meditative breaths. This is not a joke. The news article Gabriel linked him to was real. Gabriel isn't being a dick. He re-reads the news article; or parts of it any way.

 **'2 dead in car crash'** the article's title reads. It's a simple enough title. Castiel skims it again, shaking his head.  **'...on Friday evening, Anna Novak-Milton and her husband, Rache Milton, were hit by a driver speeding through a stop light...'** Anger bubbles up inside Castiel, because if that stupid driver hadn't have been so naive to think he would never hurt someone, Anna would still be alive. He continues to skim.  **'...however, the offending driver survived, as well as the Milton's baby, Claire...'**

And that's when Castiel breaks. It was bad enough to know he lost Anna; who was more of a motherly figure than his own true mother; but now Claire, beautiful, sweet, little Claire was alone. Sure, she had all of her family - but not her parents. Just aunts and uncles. Castiel begins to shake and he bites his lip, hard, holding back tears and quickly grabbing his things up. He punches out his time and manages to not sprint out of the hospital, but once he's in the parking garage he all but flies up the stairs and to his car, unlocking it with shaking hands and dropping his coat and other miscellaneous items in the seat beside him.  _Anna is dead. Rache is dead. Little Claire is alone._

Can he even drive? Cas breathes and knows he truly shouldn't go, but against better judgement, he does. It's not like he really has much to lose, after all, most of his close family is dead now. Gabriel and Claire is all that's left. He's brain's on overdrive as he pulls out and drives straight to his parent's house, not bothering to call Gabriel and instead just texting him a quick  **'on way, meet out front'** because God himself only knows how unprepared Castiel is to see his family. His phone buzzes with Gabriel's reply -  **'k'** \- and Cas's lip curls. Just 'k'? Then again, he's not even mad about it. He's just.. broken. He pulls to a stop out front of his parents house, which is swarmed by cars: parking alongside the car he knows is Gabriel's, he steps out and nearly collapses right there.

Luckily, Gabriel's there already, peeling from the side of the house and slinging a supportive arm around Cas, stopping him from falling.

"Hey, Cassie." Gabriel says softly, "What took so long?"

Cas shrugs a half hearted shoulder, his throat too tight to speak for a few minutes. Gabriel just stands there, drawing Cas in for a tight hug, before letting go. Cas leans against the side of the house, staring at the sky and the stars blankly. It's around three thirty in the morning now, but the Novak house is in full swing with everyone mourning and trying to figure out what to do. Cas sighs and finally looks down. "I was with Dean. And before you say anything sarcastic, don't. Just, don't."

Gabriel nods and glances back towards the house, then back to his brother who looks about ten seconds away from losing whatever intake he might have had. "Claire's in there."

Cas had started to look down at the ground again, but as soon as Gabriel mentions Claire his head snaps up. "She.. she is?" At Gabe's affirmative nod, Cas turns on his heel and walks inside. Heads turn and a few murmurs of 'Castiel' break the silence, but his attention is on one thing. "Claire." He speaks sharply, "Where is Claire." One of his brothers - Uriel, thank god, one of the kindest of his brothers - points towards the guest bedroom and Cas is pushing through the rather suffocating crowd of mixed Novaks and Miltons, until he reaches Claire.

Naomi Novak is sitting in the room with the baby in her arms, looking up to Castiel as he enters. Her lips purse but she then straightens the frown into a smile, "Hello, Castiel." She says softly, rocking little Claire in her arms.

Castiel inclines his head and bites his lip hard again, not only to hold back tears, but to refrain from saying any words - after all, once his mother heard of his sexual preferences, she all but told him never to come back. Not unless he was dead. Now that Naomi has no choice but to be kind of him, she is. That annoys Castiel to no end. "May I have her, please?" He says, voice strained.

The brunette woman stands and gently places Claire in Castiel's arms, then sighs. "I suppose I'll see you when the lawyers are here. Turns out, both Anna and Rache already had their wills - plus, we're planning on suing the bastard that hit our baby girl."

Castiel just nodes again, watching his mother leave, then sits on the bed and kisses Claire's head gently. "I'm so sorry, Claire." He whispers, his voice hoarse. After a while the door creaks open and Gabriel sits beside him on the bed, taking Claire from his arms and allowing Cas to just cry until he can't.

* * *

By the time Castiel's left his parents house it's with mild panic setting in and his world's still swaying. He knows he really doesn't have time to go home but he does anyway, because he has to look halfway decent for work. Work, he realizes, is something he should not go to. But then again, he needs an anchor, something steady, in his life right now. His work had always been his anchor, and he was sticking to it. He reaches his apartment and parks, then runs upstairs, to his place, and rushes through a shower, breakfast, and then getting dressed. He sighs, knowing this was about as good as it was going to get, and then goes back downstairs. He pauses to pet his cat a bit since it was eying him worriedly, then leaves and closes his eyes tightly.

 _Time to brave the day, Castiel._ He tells himself.

* * *

He reaches the hospital half an hour late, but honestly, he doesn't think they'd really care. With all the overtime he'd been doing, he assumes it balances out. Or rather, hopes. He gets a displeased look from a superior but with a halfhearted wave and smile, she just shakes her head and walks off. She must not know the news, then, because if there's one thing Doctor Jody Mills is, it's considerate. If she knew how Castiel was feeling.. well, that's besides the point.

He rushes to Dean's room and only knocks once before Dean answers, and Castiel fights the urge to whimper at Dean's state. Although the frown Dean had been wearing when he answered the door had faded into a soft smile, Dean was still trembling and gripping the door tightly. 

"Hi, Cas." Dean murmurs, "I was worried I scared you off or something."

Cas shakes his head mutely, stepping inside when Dean allows him in and then immediately heading to his chair, glancing up to Dean. "You didn't scare me off, obviously. I uh.." He trails off, his brow furrowing and eyes squinting slightly as he tilts his head to the side. What should he tell Dean? _Oh, my sister's dead?_ Or maybe,  _Oh, my sister's dead and she was like a mother to me, and her husband who was pretty much my best friend is dead too! Also, their 5 month old daughter has apparentally been entrusted to my care and sure I'm a doctor but I know jack shit about babies, really? So I'm the epitome of mental health while I'm supposed to be helping you and -_ He cuts himself off. "I had an uh, rough night. Yeah." Cas finishes lamely. 

Dean raises a speculative eyebrow. "You can't be serious. You expect me to believe that? I know you stayed here most of the night, something had to have gone wrong or -" He sucks in a sharp breath. "Or you just didn't want to be around me, but you don't want to ruin my 'healing.'"

Cas jerks his head up sharply, "No, no. I do want to be around you, Dean, I do." He stands up, walking over to where Dean had taken a seat on the bed. Cas sits beside him and runs his hands through his hair, which is still slightly wet from the shower. He then lets out a soft whine, unable to help it. "I uh. Crap." He shakily laughs, turning to rest his head on Dean's shoulder, whom immediately responds by slipping his arms around Cas. "My sister. She died yesterday. And.. she was more my best friend-mother figure and her husband was my best friend, and they're both dead, and their little girl was left to me." 

Dean blinks, then just nuzzles against Cas's neck. Death wasn't exactly something new, or upsetting, to him. The only loss that ever truly hurt was his mother. All the other deaths were.. mostly by his or his father's hand, and he lost all sensitivity to it. Cas huffs out a laugh and Dean pauses, "Ticklish?" He feels Cas nod and then unwinds from the doctor, moving back to lean against the headboard and then drawing the doctor to him. "I'm so sorry for your losses, Cas." He says, kissing Cas's neck, then his jaw, then down to his shoulder before shifting so the doctor sat between his legs, Cas's back against Dean's chest. "I really am. I know it's tough," Dean pauses- because he does know how tough it is to lose someone, he remembers the feeling of losing his mother distinctly enough- "but you'll be fine."

Cas nods and blinks a few times, bring a hand up to rub at his eyes. "This is pathetic, here I am, supposed to be helping you, and instead you're.. you're helping me. Goddamnit." He half laughs, half chokes out, and Dean just smiles against his hair. "I'm scared, though. Claire - that's their little girl. She's so beautiful, already, she's just a little baby at five months. I don't know how to take care of a child. I never thought I was going to have one, so I never bothered to really pay attention. Sure, I'm good with Claire and taking care of her when Anna and Rache are - were - out on dates, but now? I can't just say no. I love that little girl. But do I have the time? The abilities?" He groans, having an exisistential crisis. Dean kisses along Cas's shoulder.

"Time? You'll find a way. Get a baby sitter, or take some time off.. and the abilities? I'm sure you do. I'm just a big baby and you're taking care of me." Dean soothes, running his hands along Cas's tensed shoulder blades. "And.. maybe when I get out of this hell hole.. I can come help you." 

Cas blanks out for a second before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He moves then, so he's straddling Dean's lap and looking into those gorgeous eyes of his, those eyes that are like brilliant small galaxies full of wonder. He leans his forehead against Dean's and breathes out slowly, "You mean that? You'd actually want to.."

"Yes, of course." Dean cuts him off, pressing his lips softly to Cas's. "It's not like I'll have anything else to do with my life. Nobody would be interested in hiring the son of John Winchester, goddamn murderer extraordinaire. On top of that, nobody would want to hire someone with a record of mental illness." He smiles slightly at his own self-deprecation, "I'm better off just staying inside for the rest of my life. Maybe get a job as a mechanic, if I'm lucky."

"Dean? Why do you talk about yourself so negatively?" Cas questions, smoothing his thumbs over Dean's cheekbones. 

That's when Dean freezes. He looks at Cas and then away, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and making Cas whimper again. What a pair they made, so emotionally shattered and yet trying to be strong for one another. 

Finally, Dean answers. "I suppose because I've only been raised to think negatively about myself." His voice is soft, a mere whisper. "Everything I ever did was wrong, my father made sure I knew that. Everything about me was dispicable. Pathetic." A slight pause. "I'm pathetic. Seven years staring at walls, Castiel, look at me. What do you even see in me?" He laughs brokenly, "I'm just a broken man who could never pick up the pieces. I'm a murder, I'm the son of a murderer, my god I never even graduated high school - I am nothing, I am -"

Cas covers Dean's mouth with his hand. "Dean. Dean, you are.. You are  _none_ of those things. You are your own man. You are so _strong_ , Dean, don't you get that? Most people with your upbringing, they wouldn't be here today. They wouldn't be sitting here, talking to me, being so uniquely  _them_ despite everything. You're fighting this disease, this  _thing_ in your mind with so much strength and you're kicking it's ass. So don't, don't say you're nothing. Please. You're so, so beautiful, Dean. Inside and out. And you don't even see it."  _And where did that burst of positivity come from,_ Cas wonders. But he decides not to make a comment on it as he moves his fingers to slip into Dean's hair, slightly curling into the long strands and then releasing, just running them through, over, and over.

Dean stares at Cas, opening and closing his mouth a few times. Then he just shakes his head and rumbles in displeasure, "You're too stubborn for me." He whispers in Cas's ear, shutting his eyes tightly against the world. "I can't decide if I hate that, or love it."

Cas just shrugs, tilting Dean's chin up again and smiling softly at the man. "You know you love it."

Dean shrugs. "Whatever, assbutt."

"You did not just -" Cas starts.

"Oh, I did." Dean finishes.

* * *

When Cas leaves (with the promise to be early tomorrow since he had been so late today) he heads straight to pick up things he knows he'll need to accomodate for Claire. He knows he can't do this alone so on the way out of the hospital he stops by Gabe's office. He knocks once and Gabe calls a (rather unprofessional and sing songed) 'come in.' Cas rolls his eyes at his brother's antics and edges in, "Hey, Gabe." Cas murmurs, and Gabe looks up.

"Oh! Hi, Cas." Gabe says. He's less affected by Anna's death; they had never been really close, but you could tell he's still upset. After all, losing a sister is like losing a limb, at least in their family. 

Cas waves slightly, leaning against the doorway with shadowed eyes. The facade he had put on for Dean was fading now. "I need help." Cas starts, waving dismissively at Gabe's worried look. "Getting everything set up for Claire. So, come shopping with me and eventually help me get things together?" 

Gabe doesn't even hesitate with his reply of yes.

* * *

By midnight, they have an entire room set up for Claire. Castiel breathes a sigh of relief and leans against the wall. "So. Single parenting. Right. Holy shit, I'm going to have a daughter." Castiel turns to Gabe, "I never thought I was going to have a kid, what do I do, holy shit -"

Gabe smacks the back of Castiel's head, lightly. "You, my dear brother, are going to do exactly what you always do with Claire. You're a natural at taking care of children. I'm not even going to lie about that. However, you'll need to change your hours at the hospital - go in later, get out earlier - which I know will put a damper on your hopes with Dean."

Castiel frowns. "But he's doing so well. I don't want to mess anything up."

"Exactly, Cassie. I uh, authorized his move to the A-Hall, since he's doing so well." Gabe pauses, a small smile on his lips at the look on Castiel's face. "If - and that's a big  _if_ \- you keep him doing as well as you have him right now, I'll authorize him to be out by next week. God only knows how relieved the hospital will be. Plus, I'm sure Sam and Jessica will be pleased to know he's out."

"Sometimes I love you way too much, Gabe. But in the totally platonic, brotherly way." Castiel stutters, breathing deep. "Yeah yeah, Cassie. Since the papers have already been signed and all yesterday, you just need to go get Claire from Mom and we're good to go." 

* * *

 

It's one am by the time Castiel gets Claire settled in to her new home.

By the time he's in bed, he knows tomorrow will be another tough one running on almost no sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Kay. Again, I know absolutely jack shit about how articles would be written, and all that fun stuff. Please keep that in mind, plus I'm just writing because well, I have nothing better to do. So.. Yeah. I don't words good, obviously.
> 
> I hope you get the point. 
> 
> Also I'm so very sorry for all the Cas in this chapter & the Drama & the fact there is like only one huge Destiel moment in this chapter. But bear with me! Drama revives my muse and now I opened up a whole entire way to get Dean out of this hospital so we can have them going on dates and domestic scenes and ;w; I'll shut up now. <3
> 
> ALSO IM SORRY ABOUT CHANGING CLAIRE TO BE ANNA'S BABY?! IT JUST WORKED OUT AND I WANTED ADOPTIVE-DAD CAS OK


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